Too Damn Convincing
by Moonlight Escape
Summary: "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded. His response was a simple one-worded, "Nothin'." "Nothin' my ass! You were reading my journal!" I yelled. This time at least he had more words to say. "Ya left it on the table downstairs." "Seriously? That's your excuse?" "Ain't no excuse, it's the truth." Bethyl, One-shot, MATURE. Complete.


**I was so overwhelmed by all the wonderful reviews and feedback after my first Bethyl one-shot. All I can say is thank you so much. I feel so happy our ship is so strong xD Anyway, I felt that I had to at least write ONE MORE one-shot. This one I decided would be fun to do from a 1st person Beth POV. This takes place around the 'Alone' episode timeframe where they're at the funeral home. **

**So. Yeah. Read on. Mature. Enjoy. Yeah. **

**~X~X~X~**

There was an uncomfortable jostling feeling on my shoulder. I was taken out of my slumber by the rigorous shaking of a large hand. I opened my eyes, slightly disoriented, and the first image that registered was Daryl standing over me. "I thought I told ya ta stay at the house," his rough voice growled.

As it turned out, the first image that became clear in my vision was Daryl's face. The hunter didn't look happy with me. He looked pissed, actually. His dark brows were furrowed and his jaw was set. I meant to ask him what but I ended up yawning instead. "Hmm?" I asked.

He must have been content with my conscious state, even though I was still waking up. He lifted me up on my feet with incredible ease. I had been asleep against the graveyard stone, I guess. I don't remember how I went about falling asleep. As soon as I was stood up, Daryl kept his tight grip on my arm. "What's wrong with ya, girl?" he asked me, with yet another growl.

I blinked a few times to try and wake up. "I'm not sure," I answered, "what's got you so mad?"

"What's got _me _mad?" he repeated. "How 'bout that yer stupid ass fell asleep outside, out in the open! Walkers are all around, ya know!"

I wasn't expecting him to raise his voice at me. On the plus side, I was fully woken up by his lecture. "Sorry, sorry," I immediately said. "It's not like I went outside on purpose to take a nap." Daryl started ushering me in the direction of the house, leading me by my arm. I saw that by the looks of the skies it was almost noon. I probably went out in the graveyards about eleven or so. Sheesh, it has barely been an hour. Daryl was out hunting last I checked, he shouldn't have been back until dark. "How did you know I left the house?" I asked him.

Daryl flashed me a hostile look. "In other words, how did I catch ya?" he retorted.

He makes me sound like I'm a child. "However you wanna phrase it, Daryl," I answered, with a hard tone of my own.

Thankfully, he answered. "Had ta come back early. Got a cut. Ya weren't there, had ta look fer ya. I thought walkers invaded the house or somethin'."

Don't get me wrong, I understood why Daryl was mad at me. Or just mad, period. "Look, I'm sorry," I told him. "I just wanted to go to the one gravestone."

When I said that, the hunter stopped walking. He just halted in his steps, plain and simple. Of course, I stopped walking as well, because his hand was still firm around my arm. He didn't say anything for a few seconds. I patiently waited for him to come around. Finally, Daryl's head turned around and he looked at me with those big blue eyes that I'm such a sucker for. "I don't gotta ask which one," he muttered in a quiet voice.

"No," I answered in a quiet voice, "you don't." We both know which one it was; the gravestone that said 'beloved father' on it, the gravestone Daryl himself picked wild flowers for and set atop.

"Yer still stupid," Daryl finally stated.

I released a heavy sigh but still didn't get mad. "Go on, finish up," I instead said.

"Ya got a hurt foot. A buncha walkers coulda found ya and all ya coulda done was limp away."

That was another good point. I put a hand on his arm, the arm he was using to hold my other one. Daryl watched me put my grip gently around his wrist. "I won't leave the house again," I promised him. Then, before he could say anything else, I added, "Now what's this about a cut?"

Asking him that was a good move on my part. It changed the subject. "Nothin'," was his short answer, "Took care of it already."

"Musta been pretty bad if you left hunting early."

"Nah, I checked all my traps. Wasn't nothin' there." Daryl's tone of voice returned to normal, too. It was still gruff, yes, but it didn't have that same angry cadence to it. I liked the sound of his voice, actually. It used to be so rare for me to get him to talk to me back at the prison. Now I'm the only one he _can _talk to.

We started walking again. It was awkward because his hand was still on my arm. Even after I let go of his wrist, he still held onto me. "We can just hold hands if it's easier," I said to him. I couldn't help the musical and playful tone present in my voice.

At that, Daryl immediately let go of my arm. He made sure to walk in front of me, so the only thing of his I could see was that black vest with the angel wings on it. I'm sure he wanted to walk in front of me so I couldn't see his red face. I know he blushes easily. Hell, so do I.

My comment was not answered. I was halfway hoping it would be but Daryl let it drop. It was silent all the way until we got to the house. "That dog come back?" I asked.

Daryl snorted. "Sure as hell didn't." He walked himself up the porch steps and hastily opened the front door. I stayed on his heels behind him and shut the door behind us. We were once again alone in the house. Or funeral home, I guess. I'm not sure what this place used to be, I just know I'm surrounded by a graveyard and there are dead bodies in the basement.

I could hear Daryl's heavy footsteps as he shuffled down the hallway. Funny how he can be so silent in the forest when he wants to be, yet like a flip of a switch he can be super loud. I heard the squeaky cabinet open. He was in the kitchen.

I went into the kitchen as well. "Hungry?" I asked him.

"Hmm," he grunted in response. That was the only answer he felt like giving me. He had a jar of peanut butter in his hand. I saw dirt on his fingers, too. But telling him to wash his hands was like telling him to snap his bow in half. Daryl twisted the lid off the jar.

"Spoon?" I asked him.

He dipped his index finger in the jar and rolled himself a giant wad. Then he popped the large finger full of peanut butter in his mouth. "Nah," he said with a full mouth. I cringed a little on the inside. Daryl was either purposely trying to gross me out or he has never had one lesson in manners. And I'm sure the answer is both, especially the manners part.

I could hear Daryl trying to chew his peanut butter. He sat down on the kitchen counter, mouth smacking away and jar still in his dirty hands. It occurred to me then that Daryl was very at ease with me. He wasn't on guard at all. His bow wasn't even around his shoulder, it was set on the kitchen table. We've been at this funeral home for going on three days. This is the first day where I've noticed a change in him.

I didn't wanna speak and ruin the moment. Daryl's walls are down because he doesn't realize they're down. But as soon as I point out how comfortable or relaxed he is with me he'll probably leave. Like when he unconsciously tugged me through the graveyard with his hand on my arm... he didn't let go until I made the holding hands quip. _But it woulda been nice if we held hands, _a voice in my head then said. A very, very, very troubling voice in my head. The same voice that tells me I should climb on the kitchen counter beside Daryl and share peanut butter with him.

Yeah. Right.

Turns out I did say something, just not what I was thinking about. "What are you gonna do for the rest of the day?" I asked, keeping a pleasant tone of voice.

He was still chewing his first wad of peanut butter. All he did was shrug his shoulders. "Dunno."

This was unusual for me. Daryl always has something to do. Always. "Maybe teach me another lesson with your bow?" I suggested.

"Nah."

Well, it was worth a shot. I'm not too dejected on that one. "So what, is today your day off?" I asked him.

He stared at me from across the kitchen. "So what if it is?" he threw back.

"Doesn't matter to me. So long as there's nothing that needs to get done."

"Girl, ya think I'd be takin' a break if there was somethin' needin' done?" Daryl barked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You know what I think? I think you're just in a bad mood. And that peanut butter ain't helping any."

Finally, Daryl Dixon smirked at me. He only smirks when he's amused. Unfortunately, he's amused to my expense. But this time I could tell there was no hidden agenda behind his smirk; he was just entertained by our banter. "'Course ahm in a bad mood. I told ya, I came home and found ya weren't here." He jumped off the kitchen counter and walked across the room until he was standing a few feet in front of me. "How many times?" Daryl then asked me.

"How many times what?"

"How many times have ya visited that grave?"

Luckily for me, I wasn't looking at him in the eyes. Those blue orbs would surely hold me prisoner and force me to answer him. "The first time was when I was with you," I answered. I hated to hear the lack of confidence in my voice. It seemed the less confidence I had, the more Daryl's thrived with.

"I ain't countin' the first time, dummy."

"Three."

Daryl nodded. "That's what I-"

"Yesterday," I interrupted.

He gave me a look. "Huh?"

"Three times. Yesterday. Once today. A total of four times. Or five, if you include the first time when I was with you."

This time around, the hunter wasn't so fast to respond. It was almost like I could see the clockwork of his brain turn and turn. "Look Beth-"

"No, it's okay. We both know why I'm over at that gravestone so much," I said.

For the first time we both looked at each other in the eyes. There wasn't anger staring back at me. Just a lot of stress and worry. Who knows what Daryl saw staring back at him in my eyes. "Yer pretendin' it's Hershel's," Daryl then whispered very softly.

That was the first time I heard my daddy's name said aloud in a long, long time. I couldn't deny the pang that went through my chest. I ran a hand through my tangled hair. "I've been trying to... you know... get over him."

"He's yer dad, not some damn break up."

"I know. I mean I'm trying to get over the image of last time I saw him. I'm... I'm trying not to miss him so much." My voice cracked at the end of my sentence. "Sorry," I said suddenly, turning my back to him, "I'm gonna go upstairs. See you later."

"Beth!" Daryl called after me when I left the kitchen. He didn't pursue me, though. He stayed in that same spot, peanut butter jar still in his hands.

**~X~X~X~**

I woke up after another nap. Guilt immediately consumed me. This isn't normal for me to just sleep all day. I'm always out helping while Daryl is out hunting, it's not like I don't pull my own weight. But I have no idea what was wrong with me today. It's been a weird day. The fact that Daryl wasn't out doing his 'lone wolf' thing was weird!

I fell asleep in one of the room's couches, since Daryl already claimed the casket. Before I got off the couch I took off my sweater and put back on my boots. Usually I would be calling out for Daryl to check and see if he was in the house. Not this time. This time I remained quiet and silent as I slipped out of the bedroom and down the hallway. It was dark because the sun was replaced with the moon and there was no candle lit for me. So my little nap ended up being a four-to-five hour endeavor. Oh lord, please let nothing happen in that time frame.

There was a flickering shadow in the room that Daryl's casket occupied. I peaked my head in and saw him sat down at the edge of the piano bench. He was hunched over and his attention seemed to be engulfed in a book.

Wait... a book? Daryl reads? Sheesh, the only book is the piano hymnal. Surely Daryl doesn't care to read all the music notes. I stayed at the door's threshold and looked closer. Then the truth became clear... he wasn't reading the piano hymnal.

He was reading my journal.

…

I wasn't quite sure what to do. Disbelief was an understatement. He's not... he's not _really_ reading my journal? Is he? No, not possible. Daryl doesn't care about what I write down. He doesn't even read! He can't possibly be reading my journal!

But what was I supposed to do, deny the very sight before my eyes? It didn't matter what thought rushed through my head, it didn't change the visible proof that Daryl Dixon, redneck as ever, was holding my journal. He seemed downright consumed by it.

Oh lord. Oh good gracious lord. I suddenly remembered that I wrote about Daryl inside of my journal. I wrote it the day after we had our big blowout at the moonshine hut. I wrote about how I felt when we burned the building down and how much fun it was. I wrote about how great it felt to do that with him. I wrote about how enthralling he was, how much being around excited me.

Shit. In other words I wrote in my journal about how much I adored that stupid redneck. And now he's reading it!

All thought was out the door. "Hey!" I shouted, finally breaking the silence. His reaction wasn't casual. Daryl slammed my journal shut and threw it across the room. It slammed against the wall but that was the least of my worries. The next thing I know, Daryl's big blue (and guilty!) eyes were staring right at me. "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded.

His response was a simple one-worded, "Nothin'."

"Nothin' my ass! You were reading my journal!" I yelled. I stomped into the room, now visible by the candlelight as well. Daryl stayed on the piano bench, he didn't flinch or move. I guess I don't look that intimidating... which isn't very surprising.

This time at least he had more words to say. "Ya left it on the table downstairs."

"Seriously? That's your excuse?"

"Ain't no excuse, it's the truth."

"That didn't mean you could read it. That journal is mine and it's private," I hissed. My voice volume was no longer high, I was talking to him in a seething whisper. Daryl stood up and asserted himself so I wasn't the only force in the room. I hated how he towered over me and stared down at me with those smoldering damned eyes. "You ain't even sorry," I muttered.

His shoulders shrugged again. "Ahm sorry I got caught."

I hit him. It was a pathetic hit to his chest but I had to hit him. My hand curled into a fist and I took a giant step forward, slamming my fist into his chest. "Jackass!" I hissed, "you're only supposed to be a dick when you're drunk!"

At that, Daryl simply smirked again. He caught my fist with his larger hand with incredible ease. He held onto my fist just like he did my arm earlier today. "I ain't tryin to make fun of ya," he then told me in a very low, gruff voice.

"Then what are you trying to do?" I asked back. I was so angry at him that I could feel tears swell up in my eyes. I was on overdrive in every emotion possible. I was angry, duh, but also so confused as to why he read it in the first place. And it didn't help that we were standing so close to each other, that despite how mad I was I felt little tingles where his hand covered my hand.

"Remember what ya told me when we first came here?" Daryl asked me.

"No," I answered firmly.

"Ya told me that there are still good people left in this world."

"And you told me I was wrong."

"Nah Beth. Ahm the one wrong." I looked him straight in the eyes. I had to see if he was bullshitting me or not. I had to see if there was only honesty. Because as it stands right now, I'm having a hard time believing that he's capable of it. When I looked into his eyes I saw nothing but a fierceness stare back at me. A fierce, vicious intention.

Daryl Dixon was telling the truth.

He put his other hand on my waist. He did this gently but I felt the surety of this movement when he did so. "I like what ya write. Ya have a good heart Beth, and it's a real shame that ya got stuck with sucha piece of shit like me. Ya deserve better."

"Stop," I whispered.

"Nah, it's true. Readin' what ya wrote gave me hope. It's fuckin' stupid of me, yeah. But there ain't no helpin' it. Yer too damn convincin'."

Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. All I wanted to do in that moment was embrace him. He touched me in a way that I didn't think was possible after the prison fell. He told me point blank that I restored hope inside of him. And I knew he was honest because I could see it in his eyes; I saw the restored hope. That wasn't fierceness I was staring at. It was hope.

In that moment, the only thing between us was air. It was safe for the time being, we were alone, and I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and kissed him on his stubbly chin. It was a lingering kiss, and as my lips left my chin, that's when it changed. Daryl let my lips off of him for one second before he took both hands, weaved them into my hair, and crushed our lips together.

_GoodfuckinglordDaryljustkissedyou. _

Warmth suddenly made itself dominate. Daryl held my face as he kissed me and I didn't hesitate for one second before kissing him back. I thought of a wild fire by the way we instantly set aflame to each other. He nipped at me so hard that my lips would bruise but I paid no mind. I stepped closer to him until our bodies touched. I wanted to mold myself against him. Before I had the chance to do so, my mind was completely distracted when Daryl's warm tongue slipped past my lips.

He tasted me and took a fistful of my ponytail to dip my head back. I allowed him to control me any which way and he delved into my mouth to kiss me deeper. I felt my knees shake and my body go to jello but I commanded myself to calm the hell down. Okay, so Daryl Dixon is making out with me. No big deal.

_Whoareyoufuckingkiddingit'sahugedeal! _

_Not helping, brain!_

I settled my hands on Daryl's arms and gripped his biceps to steady myself. His lips eased off of mine and there was a loud pop sound as we came apart. I stared up at him and saw the look of absolute lust on his face. But aside from that, there was still that look of hopeful determination. A look that I gave him. A look that I hope he never loses. Seeing Daryl so exposed, so caught up in the rawness of his emotion... it only made me ache for him more.

So as soon as he broke our kiss, I decided to press my body against him like my life depended on it. He gave a deep groan; it may have sounded stressed but it sounded satisfied as well. "Hold me," I whispered into his ear. Daryl scooped me up into his arms and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing myself hard against him. He walked us backward and turned. The next thing I know, my back is pressed against a wall and Daryl's warm body is pressing me tighter and tighter. "You're not a piece of shit, you know," I told him very softly.

"Yeah, I kinda am," Daryl replied huskily. He kissed my nose and added, "But s'okay cause I'm all mysterious in a sexy way."

Oh. My. Lord. He got that from my journal. He read that out of my journal! Damn it, so he _did _read the part I wrote about him. "Shut up," I growled. I kissed him myself and I felt the smile of his lips against mine. I swear, he's never reading that journal again because I'm burning it.

This time when we kissed I tried to be the dominate one. It was almost as if we were playing a game of chase with our tongues. There was a slight taste of peanut butter that I could detect in Daryl's mouth. Thank god he ate that earlier and not pig's feet. He allowed the game of chase to go on with our tongues for a little while until finally he bit my bottom lip. I shrieked in surprise against his mouth and felt myself tense up. But he was gentle as he gnawed on my lip, and his hands running up and down my sides distracted me plenty.

I broke off our kiss, slamming my head back against the wall. I was panting and he was out of breath as well. For a long moment I was just leaned against the wall, eyes wide, lips parted, face flushed. I probably looked like a mess but Daryl stared at me differently; he stared at me with longing. I've never really seen that look before... not on Jimmy and not on Zach. Those two looked at me with lust, yeah, but there was something false about it. When Daryl stared at me with those longing eyes, it really felt like he truly wanted me. All of me.

_That's cause he's a man. _

Okay, that time my brain had a point.

Again, I'm the one to break the silence. It's like I'm breaking the hypnotic eyes that he's giving me, too. "Daryl..." I whispered very softly. I was still on a high of emotions and my whole body shook from it.

"Can't do much more," he whispered back to me. "Can't handle much more of ya."

I knew what he meant... he meant if we kept going the way we were going he wasn't gonna be able to hold back. "I want this," I told him as firmly as I could. "Don't you dare call me a girl again. I'm a woman and I want this." I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist. Something hard that I didn't notice before hit into my thigh. I already knew it was his hard on poking out through his jeans. "Clearly you want this too," I smiled, trying to lighten the tensity between us.

Daryl merely grunted. But as he grunted, he shrugged off his angels wing vest and let it plop to the floor. He was done talking, clearly. It's okay, the look he was giving me said enough. I adjusted myself on him and aligned my body's center with his current hard on. Daryl grunted yet again and pinned my arms against the wall. He made sure I couldn't wiggle or move and leaned forward, claiming my neck with his lips. I breathed unevenly as his mouth burned against my bare neck, leaving a trail of fire as he dipped down lower and lower. As he mauled my neck, I felt his hips buck against mine. His erection pressed into my center and I couldn't help but mewl in a twisted kind of delight. I wanted him to buck into me so much harder. To do this, I wanted to put my hands on his hips but he wasn't letting my hands go anywhere except against the wall.

There were a few blissful minutes of him sucking my neck and thrusting his hips into mine. But I decided that I wanted more than that, I wanted to actually put _hands on him!_ Breaking out of Daryl Dixon's grip was nearly impossible, especially true for me. He grinned against my collarbone when he felt me wiggle and flinch my arms. "Where ya wantin' ta go?" he then whispered to me. Damn that husky tone of voice of his. It makes me mad.

"You," I answered, and the firm tone in my voice surprised me. Daryl released my left hand but kept my right one pinned. With one hand finally free, I ran my fingertips through his hair, grabbing myself a fistful. I guided his head back to mine and we kissed once again. It was like I was drunk on his taste, like it was the moonshine shack all over again. I hummed against his lips, I was so happy. I broke off our lips and whispered sharply, "Here." He raised a brow in questioning. "I wanna do it right here," I told him.

"Against the wall?" Daryl questioned. He shook his head, "Nah, that ain't gon' do."

The next thing I know, his large arms have encircled me and he's backed up from the wall. I felt a little disappointed but at least he was carrying me. I didn't even look to see where Daryl was taking me, I just held onto him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm to the touch. All I wanted was to feel all of it.

Daryl plopped me down on the couch, the same couch that I had been asleep on beforehand. I squeaked when he dropped me and my legs unwrapped around him. "Finally got ya offa me," Daryl smirked. My eyes were wide. I can't believe he just dropped me! Before I could yell or object, he sat on top of me, straddling me around my waist to the couch.

Oh good lord. Now Daryl is looking down at me while I'm flat on the couch. I felt like his prey, which I was in a sense, I guess. Those eyes of his shined with a focused gleam. He didn't just stare at me, he studied me, and the pressure of being Daryl's one focus made me squirm. I felt my face burn up and the wave of embarrassment hit me hard. I didn't even have my hair brushed- I must look like a mess.

Daryl's fingertips softly prodded my ribs, digging into the space between them. I laughed and shouted, "That tickles!"

He grinned, "I know, had ta make ya smile somehow." He leaned over me and kissed my lips briefly. "Yer too damn beautiful fer me, ya know that?" he asked me in a quiet voice.

I smiled and shot my head up to kiss him again. This time he didn't hold my hands down because both of our hands went to work. I got my cardigan unbuttoned and over my head while he had his shirt discarded as well. He didn't expect me to be bare before him. I wasn't wearing any kinda bra, somewhere along the line of the apocalypse I stopped wearing one. They're not as mandatory as a warm jacket or long pants. Daryl was taken by surprise to suddenly see me naked beneath him. I still had my jeans on, though.

I wish I had a camera. His face turned a very dark red, like his face was sun burnt. He seemed almost stunned. I wonder how long it's been since he's seen a naked woman. Did he hook up with anyone at the prison? No, I don't wanna think about that. I placed both my hands on his bare chest, digging my fingertips in slightly. "This okay?" I asked very quietly.

Daryl snapped out of it slightly. "Mhm," he grunted.

One of his large hands drifted to my left breast. I stared at him and watched his expression as he took a hold of my mound and began to knead it like it was dough. I didn't know that his hands teasing me there would have such an effect on me. I shuddered from the jolts of pleasure that came with every hard squeeze. His hands were hot on my skin and I loved it. I couldn't hold back the moan that slipped out of my mouth, "_Daryl_."

I'm not sure what that did, but for him to hear my moans only made him work faster. He leaned down and took one of my mounds into his mouth. If I thought his hands were hot, his mouth was scalding. His tongue swirled around and all I could do was submit to the pleasure of it all.

But as pleasing as it was, I wanted Daryl to feel the same. My hands went to work and drifted down to his jeans. Okay, crap, where's his zipper?

The next thing I know, Daryl's mouth is off me and he's looking up at me with a knowing look. "Don't be gettin' too excited," he smirked.

"Come on," I replied. Ugh, I sounded like I was practically begging. But every inch of my body was throbbing and aching for him. I needed him.

Surprisingly, he didn't give me a hard time about this. I think he was aching for me just as much as I was... difference was, he made me beg. I couldn't deny the tingles and adrenaline that shot through me when he discarded my jeans and helped me pull down mine. I saw his erected member for the first time. Hell, I saw a man's, you know, thing for the first time. Daryl hovered over me while on the couch. I guess I started breathing hard because he looked at me with concern and asked, "Ya okay?"

_Calm the hell down, _my head told me. "Fine," I replied. My heart was beating a million miles a minute but whatever.

"Beth, we don't gotta-"

I knew what he was going to say so I cut him off. "Please, don't finish your sentence," I told him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body flush against his. I felt his member press into my thigh and a low hiss from him. "I just wanna have this with you," I whispered. I was surprised by how soft my voice was.

Daryl had no arguments. "Let me do this," he said. He grabbed my hips and I felt the tip of him brush against my folds. All it did was brush the surface and I felt a jolt. "Fuck, yer already wet," he hissed. Daryl held onto my hips tightly and with one quick thrust, he had himself sheathed fully inside of me.

There was a dull pain that registered for me but nothing major. Still, Daryl was being as careful as he could. He waited a few long moments, even wiggling our hips left and right. I can't describe the feeling of being filled up. I felt satiated in a satisfying kind of way. "You're okay," I told him, finally. "Go on."

His hands went off my hips and then on either side of me to hoist himself for leverage. The only thing I could think to do was wrap my legs around his waist again. Slowly, Daryl eased out of me, only to shoot back in with another hard, solid thrust. I felt something erupt in the pit of my stomach; something good.

He said to let him do this, so I let him do it. He seemed to angle himself just right every time he thrust into me, and each time felt better than the last. We were both making our own kinds of sounds, mine a more breathy moan while his was a more primitive grunt. My arms were still around his neck and now my hands were tangled in his hair. I looked at his face; a thin sheen of sweat was starting to form at his brow and he looked so engaged with what he was doing. His bright blue eyes met mine. We stared at each other for a long, long second.

Then it happened for me. I cried out as my body convulsed and Daryl grinned as he watched me. He met my lips in another sloppy kiss and with one more thrust he sent me over the edge. I felt everything inside of me go beserk; my toes curled, my stomach tightened, hell, my eyes even fluttered. And as I came, I contracted around Daryl, and he followed soon after. But with Daryl there was a quick pull out and he released himself into the discarded shirt of his, which stayed close to the couch.

The next thing I'm aware of, Daryl's whole body is on top of mine, his large breaths raising him up and down. I'm panting too, and I think I might be seeing stars, I'm not sure. We say nothing; we merely pant and try to catch our breath. Eventually I say the first thing that comes to my head. "Don't just leave me now."

The hunter on top of me chuckles tiredly. He leaned up and kissed a soft spot of my skin just above my breast. "Ya want me ta stay?" he asked gruffly. He sounded so tired. But the look on his face was something I've never seen before... happy. I had never seen Daryl Dixon as happy (or as tired) as I saw him in that moment.

I couldn't help the wide smile that spread across my face. "Duh." Then I scooted myself to be level underneath him and gave him the biggest hug that my tired arms could give.

This moment between the two of us was happy. For that, I'll hug him as hard as I can.

**A/N**

**Aaaaaaaand end! Wow, that was a long one-shot. Man. Anyway, I didn't wanna harp on Daryl's reluctance to sleep with Beth because that's a common thing to happen in Bethyl fictions. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, I'm just saying I've come across it when I've read other great fictions on this site. So I hope skipping that whole ordeal was okay. I liked the idea of Daryl reading Beth's journal. Heh. Anyway, thank you for reading, I don't expect any reviews but if I get some, hoorah. **

**May Bethyl live on xD**

**~Moonlight Escape**


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